#and everyone else is just content to not talk to me.... at all

[be4chywritez]

sweet like honey | max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!reader

"you're to sweet for me."

Max doesn't like how nice you are towards him.

beachy’s masterlist🐚

Max isn't sure why he doesn’t like you. You’ve never wronged him, never talked bad about him, or been rude in any way. But for some odd reason, Max hates you.

Maybe it’s the Verstappen genes kicking in, that innate tendency to be an asshole. Or maybe it’s bred into him to keep sweet things like you at a distance. So, you can imagine his shock and horror when he sees you perched on the couch, flipping through a book in his friend’s Italian villa.

Your eyes meet his, and a smile graces your lips. You place the book in your lap, and he watches as your eyes brighten at the sight of him, the same way they might light up at the sight of a pretty flower.

Your small yellow sundress barely covers your upper thighs, and Max can’t help but stare before quickly looking down at his phone, not wanting to be too obvious about his boyish gawking.

“Max,” you say softly, your voice warm and rich like honey, drawing his attention whether he wants it or not.

He hears you, of course, but pretends to focus on his phone. His thumb moves slowly over the screen, though nothing he sees holds his interest. It’s the way you say his name that sticks in his mind, making it impossible to ignore.

“It’s nice to see you,” you continue, your tone sincere as if you mean it more than you should. You settle back into the cushions, your dress slipping a little higher on your thighs, and he catches himself glancing before looking away again.

Max lets out a quiet huff, his eyes still fixed on his phone, but his attention is all on you now. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, almost guarded.

You shift, crossing your legs under you, the air feeling warmer, closer. “A surprise, I guess,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips, the kind that lingers, soft and effortless.

Max clenches his jaw, forcing himself to look back at his phone. Still, he’s hyper-aware of your presence, of the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the room. He swallows hard, trying to steady himself, even as his chest tightens.

“Yeah,” he mutters, almost under his breath, like he’s afraid to say anything else, and you let the moment settle, content with the quiet between you.

Just then, his best friend Jamie stumbles in, holding a glass of chardonnay. “Maxie,” he coos, squishing Max’s cheeks together, making his lips pucker. Close behind comes your best friend, Mila—Jamie’s girlfriend.

A few others join the group, a mix of Jamie and Mila’s friends, and Max’s brow furrows as he realizes that they’re all couples. He internally groans, watching your eyes flit around like a lost puppy.

“Alright, everyone,” Mila announces with a clap of her hands, “time to head up. We’ve got a long day ahead tomorrow.”

One by one, the group starts dispersing, grabbing their things and heading upstairs. Max lingers, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, but he’s acutely aware of you standing up from the couch, smoothing down the hem of your dress.

You move with an easy grace, slipping past him with a soft, “Goodnight, Max.” There’s no sarcasm, no bite—just genuine kindness that he doesn’t understand. You flash him a small smile before heading toward the stairs.

Max’s jaw tightens as he watches you go. You’re far too calm, far too kind for his liking. It makes him uncomfortable, like you’re holding a mirror up to the way he behaves, forcing him to see the stark contrast between you.

He takes a deep breath, tucking his phone into his pocket, and follows behind the group. The villa is beautiful, the soft glow of the lights casting long shadows across the walls as everyone makes their way to their respective rooms. His room is at the far end of the hall, and as he reaches it, he notices you standing just outside the door next to his.

“Looks like we’re neighbors,” you say lightly, your voice warm and soft. You hold your toothbrush and a towel, your yellow sundress replaced by pale pink silky pajamas, and there’s something almost disarming about how comfortable you seem.

Max nods, his expression neutral. “Yeah.”

You don’t push the conversation, only smile again as you step into your room. “Sleep well, Max,” you say over your shoulder, as if you mean it.

He huffs quietly, more out of habit than frustration, and slips into his own room. The door closes with a soft click, and he leans back against it, rubbing a hand over his face.

For a moment, he stands there, in the silence of the room, staring at nothing in particular. He doesn’t know why your kindness unsettles him so much. It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong, but that’s exactly the problem. You’re too nice. Too understanding. And for some reason, it gets under his skin.

Max changes into a T-shirt and shorts, moving about the room on autopilot. He keeps hearing your voice, soft and sweet, lingering in his thoughts.

Finally, he pulls back the covers and slides into bed, trying to shut everything out. But it’s quiet now—too quiet. And even though you’re just on the other side of the wall, he can’t stop thinking about you.

In the middle of the night, he’s still awake, tossing and turning, when there’s a soft knock on his door. Max sits up, frowning slightly, wondering who it could be at this hour.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pads across the room, opening the door just a crack. It’s you, standing there, a little sheepish, your arms crossed lightly over your chest.

“Sorry,” you whisper, barely audible, “I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just… my room's really hot. I think the AC is broken.”

Max blinks, unsure of what to say at first. Part of him wants to tell you to deal with it yourself, but another part of him can’t ignore it.

His eyes linger on you more than he’d admit—your hair sticking to your neck from sweat, your cheeks flushed, and you nibble your lip nervously. Your tank top has ridden up, a sliver of your hip exposed, and Max does everything in his power to push those thoughts away.

“Uh… you could just crack open a window,” he suggests, his voice a bit rough from sleep. He knows the words sound hollow even to him. He doesn’t want you in his space, yet part of him doesn’t want you sweating alone either.

You fidget slightly, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I tried, but it didn’t help. I just thought… maybe I could crash in here?” The words hang in the air, hopeful yet tentative.

Max’s heart races at the idea. The prospect of sharing the bed makes his palms sweat. It’s one thing to be in the same room, but sharing a bed? He hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek as he weighs his options.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but there’s a hint of something deeper in his tone. The image of you curled up beside him—too close for comfort—sends a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah, no, you’re right,” you offer a nervous smile, clearly not wanting to invade his space, so you back away, ducking into your room. He watches you until the door is shut behind you.

Max stands in the doorway, his heart racing as he processes the moment. He’s not sure why he feels such a strong urge to call you back, to insist that it’s okay, but the words remain stuck in his throat. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling a mix of irritation and something else—something he’s not ready to name.

As he paces back to his bed, he tries to shake off the lingering image of you standing there, your flushed cheeks and nervous smile. He lies down again, staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you’re just a wall away.

A few moments pass before he hears a soft, muffled noise from your room—a sniffle, maybe? It makes his chest tighten at the thought of you crying because you're uncomfortable.

“Damn it,” he mutters to himself, tossing an arm over his eyes. He’s not going to sleep if he keeps thinking about you like this.

After what feels like an eternity of tossing and turning, he finally sits up, his decision made. He stands up, his heart pounding in his chest, and makes his way to your door. He raises his hand to knock but hesitates, uncertainty flooding in.

“Why the hell am I doing this?” he mutters, his self-doubt creeping back in. But the thought of you feeling uncomfortable alone is enough to push him through. He knocks softly, the sound barely more than a tap.

“Hey,” you call from inside, and he can hear the surprise in your voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replies, his voice worse than he intended. “I… just thought maybe you could come back. It’s probably not that hot here.”

There’s a brief silence, and he can imagine the look on your face—surprised and perhaps a little hopeful. “Really?” you ask, and he can’t help the slight smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

The door swings open, revealing you still in your silk-clad pajamas. He rips his gaze away, feeling a tightness in his throat. He doesn't utter a word, just turns around, walking to his room. He can hear your feet padding behind him, and you close the door behind the both of you.

Max keeps his back to you as you quietly follow him into the room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The air feels heavier now, thick with unspoken tension as you stand there in the dim light, waiting for him to say something. But Max doesn’t. Instead, he heads straight for the bed, pulling back the covers on one side, his movements stiff and a little too deliberate.

“You can take the right side,” he mutters, not looking at you, as he slides under the covers on the left. His heart is pounding, though he tries to act like everything is fine.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to thank him or just keep quiet. Deciding not to push it, you simply nod, even though he isn’t looking at you. You cross the room and slip into the bed beside him, careful not to make any sudden movements.

The mattress dips slightly under your weight, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he can feel the same tension thrumming between you that you do. The bed feels impossibly small now, the space between you a thin sliver of air that crackles with awkwardness.

You lie still, facing away from him, but you can feel his presence—so close and yet so distant. The sound of his steady breathing fills the room, and you wonder if he’s doing the same as you, staring at the ceiling, trying to will himself to sleep.

Minutes stretch on, and the silence between you is deafening. Every creak of the bed, every shift in the sheets seems louder in the stillness of the night. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice so soft it barely breaks the silence. You don’t expect a reply, and for a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of your own breathing.

Then, finally, Max shifts slightly beside you. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles, his voice low and rough, but there’s something different in it now. Something that isn’t as cold as before.

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Maybe he isn’t as indifferent as he wants you to think. You curl up a little more, trying to make yourself comfortable, even as the tension lingers in the air between you.

As the night drags on, you begin to drift in and out of sleep. The heat from the earlier part of the night is gone now, replaced by a cooler breeze that drifts in through the open window. The sheets are soft, and for the first time since you entered Max’s room, you start to relax.

Just as you’re on the edge of sleep, you feel something shift again. Max turns slightly, the mattress dipping as he moves closer—just barely, but enough for you to notice. His arm brushes against yours, and the warmth of his skin sends a small jolt through you.

You stay perfectly still, wondering if he did it on purpose or if he’s just restless. Either way, you don’t move, afraid to disturb the delicate balance between you.

Your mind races—what if you roll over onto him in your sleep? What if you start snoring?—and the nerves bubble up, spilling out before you can stop yourself.

“So… I haven’t slept in a guy’s bed in ages,” you blurt out, staring at the ceiling. Max barely reacts, his only acknowledgment a low, noncommittal “Mhm,” but it doesn’t stop you from talking.

“Yeah, it’s been, like… a long time. I’m more of a 'sleep with a thousand pillows' kind of person, you know? Gotta have the right setup.” You laugh a little, mostly to yourself, feeling the need to fill the quiet. Max doesn’t respond, but you keep going, too nervous to stop. “Oh, and I’m really bad with directions, like, I get lost in grocery stores. Once, I ended up in the freezer aisle for thirty minutes just trying to find the cereal.”

“Mhm.”

His replies are half-hearted at best, but you don’t mind. If anything, the sound of his quiet indifference weirdly helps soothe your nerves.

“Oh! And I can’t swim,” you say with a laugh, thinking it’s just another random fact to throw out there. But this time, Max’s head snaps toward you.

“You came to the amalfi coast, and you can’t swim?” he asks, his voice sharper than before, with a hint of amusement. His eyes narrow slightly, and you can’t help but grin.

“Yeah,” you reply, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Figured I’d just, you know… stay on the shore.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s stupid.”

“Maybe,” you say, laughing softly, your nerves easing a bit. “But I’m good at other things. Like… did you know I can recite the entire script of Finding Nemo? Well, mostly.”

Max rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Great skill.”

You keep talking, the words flowing easier now. Your voice fills the room, soft and rhythmic, and even though Max doesn’t say much, you can feel the tension in the air start to shift. His body relaxes slightly, the space between you feeling a little less awkward.

“And another thing, I’m a terrible cook. Burnt spaghetti once. Didn’t even think that was possible. It’s water and noodles, right?” You laugh again, and this time Max lets out a quiet huff—almost like a chuckle, though he’d never admit it.

Your voice is like a steady hum, lulling the room into a gentle calm. You talk about everything and nothing, the words spilling out in a quiet stream. Max listens, his responses becoming softer, almost inaudible, but it doesn’t matter. His breathing slows, his eyes fluttering shut as your voice washes over him.

You don’t notice when he finally drifts off, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. But somehow, you feel it—the way the energy in the room has shifted, his earlier sharpness melted away into something softer, more relaxed.

The next morning, sunlight spills through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You stir first, the warmth of the bed enveloping you, your body reluctant to wake. For a moment, you forget where you are, and then it hits you—Max’s bed, Max’s room. You blink your eyes open slowly, turning your head slightly to see him still there, asleep.

He’s lying on his back now, the sheets tangled around his waist, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. His face is serene, the harsh lines you’ve come to associate with him softened by sleep. His hair is slightly tousled, giving him an almost boyish look, something so different from the hard-edged man who usually glares at you.

You feel a strange flutter in your chest as you look at him, this version of Max—unguarded, vulnerable. It’s a side of him you never thought you’d see, and it’s almost too intimate, too close. You shift a little, trying not to make any noise, but the bed creaks softly under your weight.

Max stirs, his brows furrowing slightly as he slowly wakes up. His eyes open halfway, still hazy with sleep, and for a brief moment, he looks at you without the usual edge in his gaze. It’s like he’s forgotten for a second who you are, where he is.

Then, reality seems to settle back in, and his eyes narrow ever so slightly, though there’s no real malice there. Just a kind of gruff annoyance.

“Mornin’,” he mutters, his voice rough and low, thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply softly, offering a tentative smile.

He shifts, pushing himself up on his elbows, the sheet falling further down his waist, revealing more of his toned torso. You can’t help but glance, quickly averting your eyes when you realize you’re staring.

Max runs a hand through his messy hair, yawning as he glances at you. “You talk a lot in your sleep too, or is that just when you’re awake?” he asks, a hint of that familiar sarcasm creeping back into his tone, though there’s no real bite behind it.

You chuckle lightly, relaxing a little. “Only when I’m awake, I promise.”

He grunts, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence between you less awkward than you would’ve expected. It’s almost… comfortable.

Max stretches, his muscles flexing slightly as he does, and you try not to let your eyes linger too long. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you’re grateful when he doesn’t seem to notice.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “how’d you sleep?”

He glances back at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he shrugs. “Fine, I guess.” There’s a pause, and then he adds, almost begrudgingly, “Didn’t mind all the talking.”

Your heart skips a beat at that, the small admission catching you off guard. You smile, warmth spreading through you. “Glad to know I didn’t annoy you too much.”

Max doesn’t respond, just grabs his phone from the nightstand and checks the time. But you catch the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips before he turns away.

He stands, pulling on a shirt and running a hand through his hair again before heading toward the door. “We’re leaving for breakfast soon,” he mutters. “Don’t take too long.”

He steps out before poking his head back in his face serious, “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he says gesturing a finger around towards you and him, right asshole Max is alive and well.

“Right.” you deflate, but none the less walk to your room. You notice the AC now works. 

The warmth of the Italian sun is already starting to filter in through your window as you slip into your pale yellow babydoll dress. The soft fabric feels light against your skin, perfect for the warm weather and the laid-back vibes of the villa.

When you finally make your way downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee and pastries fills the air, and you can hear the familiar hum of laughter and chatter. The villa’s terrace is bathed in sunlight, with everyone seated around the large outdoor table, enjoying breakfast. 

Max is already seated, of course, his usual stoic expression in place. He’s leaning back in his chair, sunglasses on, making it impossible to tell if he’s even noticed you. 

An array of colorful fruits and pastries litters the table, couples chatting and laughing as you offer everyone a warm smile while taking a seat next to Mila, who returns the gesture. “How was the room, darling?” she asks, taking a sip of her tea. You can feel a pair of laser beams on your face, as if Max is staring into your soul.

“Oh, it was truly nice,” you reply, feeling the tips of your ears heat up with nerves. Mila seems to buy it and turns to address the entire group.

“So, guys, today we’re going to take the yacht around,” she announces, eliciting a few excited hoots from your friends. Your stomach tightens at the thought of being stuck on a yacht, but you brush the anxiety aside.

As the chatter around the breakfast table grows, the knot in your stomach tightens at the mention of the yacht. You toy with the edge of your napkin, trying to suppress the wave of nerves that accompanies the idea of being out on the water, especially since you can’t swim.

Max, still leaning back in his chair, tilts his head slightly in your direction, as if he senses the unease radiating off you. His sunglasses shield his eyes, but you swear you can feel his gaze tracing over you. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and you can almost hear his voice echoing in your mind: “You came to the Amalfi Coast, and you can’t swim?”

You swallow hard, forcing a smile as you join in on the group's excitement, even though the thought of being surrounded by water sends a shiver down your spine. Mila stands, gathering everyone’s attention, and starts guiding the group toward the dock.

The villa’s outdoor space spills into a sprawling garden, leading to a private path that takes you to where the yacht is docked. The sunlight glints off the water, almost blinding in its brightness, as you walk with the others toward the sleek, luxurious yacht. Everyone seems thrilled—laughing and talking about the views they’ll see—while you stay quieter than usual, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves.

You tug at the sleeves of your oversized polo, the fabric bunching slightly in your grip as you focus on steadying your breath. The path to the dock feels longer than it actually is, the sounds of the group’s lively chatter fading into the background. You glance at the shimmering blue water ahead and bite the inside of your cheek.

Max lingers just a few steps behind, and you can feel the weight of his presence even without looking. His footsteps are slow and deliberate, as if he’s watching you closely, waiting for any sign of weakness. You try not to dwell on it, though the image of him smirking at your fear lingers in the back of your mind.

As the group finally boards the yacht, you become hyper-aware of the water surrounding you. The boat rocks gently as everyone gets settled, and you grip the railing tightly, trying to hide your discomfort. Max watches you for a moment before walking past you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours.

“Relax,” he mutters under his breath, not even looking at you, but there’s something almost reassuring in his tone. You exhale slowly, forcing yourself to take a seat with the others, letting the warmth of the sun and the sound of conversation distract you from the vast ocean around you.

As the yacht pulls away from the dock, you try to focus on the scenery. The Amalfi Coast is breathtaking—cliffs draped in greenery, colorful villas dotting the shoreline, and the ocean sparkling beneath the golden sunlight. Everyone around you laughs and soaks up the beauty of the day, but your hands remain clenched in your lap, your mind preoccupied with the endless expanse of water.

Despite your nervousness, you find yourself stealing glances at Max. He’s sitting at the back of the yacht, one arm draped casually over the side, sunglasses shielding his eyes as he stares out at the water. He looks so at ease, completely unaffected by the swaying of the boat or the openness of the sea.

The breeze picks up, ruffling your hair, and as you turn your attention back to the group, you feel the yacht slow down. Mila claps her hands, announcing that they’ve anchored near a beautiful cove, perfect for swimming.

Your stomach drops.

Everyone begins shedding layers, excitement buzzing through the group as they prepare to jump into the water. You stay seated, gripping the edge of your chair as they leap overboard, laughter echoing around you.

Max stands, pulling off his shirt and revealing the defined muscles of his back and shoulders. Your eyes linger for a moment longer than you intend. He catches your gaze just before he moves toward the edge of the yacht, that same smirk playing on his lips.

“You coming in?” he asks, his voice low, almost challenging.

You shake your head quickly, offering a small laugh. “No, I think I’ll just… stay here and enjoy the sun.”

Max arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying your excuse, but he doesn’t push it. He gives you one last look, his smirk still in place, before diving effortlessly into the water.

You watch as your friends giggle and enjoy themselves. Mila waves up at you, and you give her a fake salute. She giggles and goes back to swimming. A few minutes later, several members of the group come up to take a break, Max among them. You hate to admit it, but you watch the water droplets roll off him, his cheeks flushed from the sun, and a tight feeling blooms in your core as you force yourself to look away.

The group is lively, and at one point, Jamie, always the instigator, starts playfully shoving friends toward the edge of the boat, teasing and laughing. You stand at the back, watching, hoping to stay out of the chaos.

But in a moment of playful exuberance, Jamie swings his arm and accidentally nudges you forward. Time seems to slow as you lose your balance, and before you can even process what’s happening, you tumble over the side of the yacht. The water crashes around you, and as you hit the surface, the cold rush envelops you, sending panic gripping your chest. Instinctively, you kick your legs, but the water pulls you under, and you flail in confusion. The world above disappears, and the muffled sounds of laughter and splashing fade into silence.

Just as you start to lose hope, a strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back to the surface. You gasp for air, blinking the water from your eyes, and find yourself face-to-face with Max. His expression is intense, irritation etched on his features.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps, though his grip is steady and reassuring as he keeps you afloat.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, trying to shake off the fear. “I didn’t want to go in!” you manage to sputter, still clinging to him for dear life.

Max rolls his eyes, the frown returning, though it’s softer this time. “You need to stop thrashing around,” he says, his voice lower now.

As he helps you back onto the yacht, the warmth of the sun hits your damp skin once more. Laughter and cheers erupt from the group as they realize you’re okay, but Max’s presence is the only thing that matters to you in this moment. He doesn’t say anything; his expression remains unreadable as he sets you down.

You catch your breath, water dripping from your hair and running down your arms. “Thanks, Max,” you say, trying to brush off the embarrassment. His usual smirk is absent, and for a split second, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he cares.

But as soon as you’re on the boat, he steps back, leaving you with the others. “Try not to drown next time,” he says, his tone flat as he pulls his shirt back on, the fabric clinging to his damp skin. It feels more like a reflex than a genuine jab, but you let it slide, laughing it off. “I’ll try my best.”

He turns away, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. You shake your head, trying to focus on the laughter around you as Jamie and Mila check to make sure you’re okay. “Really, I’m fine,” you assure them, even as your heart races from the close call.

Just like that, everyone goes back to normal. Lunch is served, and as the yacht heads back to the dock under the fading light, you’re the first one off, eager to touch solid ground once more. You don’t bid anyone goodnight; you’re all too tired for that. You head upstairs to your room, closing the door behind you and shrugging off your damp polo and swimsuit. You hop in the shower, rinsing the salt water off your skin.

After your shower, the soft sound of knocking pulls you from your thoughts. You wrap yourself in a towel and open the door to find Mila standing there, concern etched across her features.

“Hey, just wanted to check on you,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scan your face, searching for any signs of distress. “That fall looked pretty rough.”

You chuckle softly, waving it off. “I’m fine, really. Just a little embarrassed.”

Mila raises an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “You sure it’s not because of Max? I saw the way he pulled you out of the water. It looked pretty… intimate.”

The mention of Max sends a warmth flooding through you, one that you quickly dismiss. “Oh, please. He was just being a jerk, as usual.”

She smirks, crossing her arms. “Or maybe he just likes the attention.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, but a small part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it. “He’s just… Max. You know how he is.”

Mila studies you for a moment, trying to read between the lines. “Well, just think about it. He’s not always the way he acts, you know?”

With that, she leaves, and you find yourself lost in thought, her words echoing in your mind. What if Max really did care?

Later that night, curiosity gets the better of you. You stand in front of Max’s door, your heart racing as you knock softly.

“Come in,” he calls, and you push the door open cautiously. He’s lounging on his bed, scrolling through his phone, and for a moment, you’re struck by how at home he looks.

“Hey,” you say, your voice soft. “I just wanted to thank you… for earlier.”

Max looks up, a flicker of something in his gaze before he masks it with indifference. “You mean for saving your ass?” he quips, his smirk returning. “Don’t mention it.”

You roll your eyes, stepping further into the room. “You know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care, you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

His expression shifts, annoyance flickering across his features. “What do you want me to do? Throw you a parade for not drowning?”

“Maybe just a little acknowledgment would be nice,” you counter, crossing your arms defensively.

He stands, taking a step closer, and the air between you crackles with tension. “I don’t like how sweet you are,” he says, his tone sharp. “It’s annoying.”

“Annoying?” you challenge, feeling a rush of defiance. “Is that really all you’ve got? Because it sounds like you’re just scared of someone actually caring.”

Max’s eyes darken, and for a moment, you think he might snap back. But instead, he steps even closer, invading your personal space. “You think you’re so great, don’t you? All sunshine and rainbows, but it doesn’t work with me.”

Before you can respond, he closes the distance, and suddenly, his lips are on yours—fervent and demanding. His warmth envelops you, slightly chapped against your own, igniting a spark that sends a thrill coursing through your entire body. You’re caught off guard at first, but your instincts take over, and you melt into the kiss, feeling his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer.

As the kiss deepens, you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He presses you against the door, his body firm and solid against yours, radiating heat that makes your pulse quicken. The kiss is intoxicating; every second stretches into eternity—his lips moving against yours in a dance that feels both wild and tender.

When you finally pull away, breathless, your heart races as you search his eyes. “Wait… Max—”

He leans in again, his breath mingling with yours, heavy with longing. “You taste sweet,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, a smirk tugging at his lips.

A rush of warmth floods your cheeks at his words. “Is that all you have to say?” you tease, a smile breaking through your fluster.

Max steps back slightly, his hands still resting on your hips as he watches you intently. “What do you want me to say? That I’m an asshole who can’t help but want you?”

The air between you buzzes with unspoken tension—a mix of frustration and attraction. You feel exhilarated yet confused, unable to ignore the thrill of being this close to him, the chemistry crackling like electricity.

“Maybe you could start by admitting you actually care,” you challenge softly, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Maybe,” he replies, a hint of seriousness in his tone before leaning in again, capturing your lips with his. This time, it’s even more intense; his hands grip your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he can’t get enough of you.

But as the moment stretches on, you pull back slightly, breathless. “Max—”

He leans in again, and you find yourself needing to physically stop him, your hands resting on his chest. “Wait, we can’t just—”

“Why not?” he presses, his voice low and needy, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

You’re both panting, caught in an electric moment. “You’re infuriating, you know that?” you say, a smile creeping onto your lips despite the chaos swirling around you.

Max smirks, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, but you like it.” He crashes his lips against yours once more, and as he pulls away, he runs his tongue along his lower lip, a boyish smirk breaking through. “Sweet like honey,” he teases, prompting you to laugh and tilt your head back. Without thinking, you pull him down by his shirt collar, kissing him again, lost in the moment.

[moniericreative]

The Saddest Tragedy of 2/2; Damned Regardless of Choice

Wasn't sure if anyone else already talked about this, but after going through the Persona 5 Royal Artbook a while back, and again recently... Something about the whole situation just really struck with me.

Obviously, spoiler warnings ahead for Persona 5 Royal, specifically Third Semester's Februrary 2nd.

So, unsurprisingly, I'm referring to Maruki's Deal.

It's a common interpretation that Akechi's 100% gung-ho against it.

But there's two separate moments that show a rare bit of... Wavering in his resolve.

The first is the Phantom Thieves meeting in Maruki's office with Lavenza:

Out of all of the Phantom Thieves, the only one to play devil's advocate and remind the group that Maruki's actions benefit them too is... Akechi, of all people. Not Joker, not Makoto, not Lavenza or anyone else.

It's solely Akechi who brings that fact up.

In the same meeting, beforehand he was very upfront and crass about how manipulative Maruki was being, and how the man played the other thieves like a fiddle...

And yet he says this in spite of all that.

There was no reason or prompting for him to, and Ryuji even rejects him politely afterwards too.

So surely this was just an off-line of simple pragmatism, right?

Well, here comes moment number 2, in one of the optional Jazz Jin hangouts you can get with him:

He plays it off as some idle food for thought with no deeper meaning, but... It's Akechi. He usually doesn't just say things just to say them.

There's always a hidden meaning to his words.

It's pretty obvious he's referencing his space in the Phantom Thieves, a group that's civil with him but doesn't particularly have any inclination to be friends with him... But it does beg a question...

Is he happy? Now that he's no longer being controlled by Shido, or burdened by a lifelong revenge?

By the sheer existence of this conversation at all, directed only towards Joker and in a place that he's comfortable in (second to Leblanc) it's pretty safe to say he is, but has reservations about it (i.e. 'If their happiness hinges on the group's unhappiness.')

Now where does the artbook come in? Well, inside the P5R artbook, there's a handful of interviews that expand on some parts of the Royal exclusive content.

(Big thanks to Violet for compiling and translating them, you can find her whole thread here > https://x.com/wiowe/status/1776225719661547663)

What was the one bit that stuck with me?

Per Violet's translation:

Creator's Comment: "When I think about how Akechi's wish is to play chess with the protagonist after school, I want to tell him 'You like the protagonist after all, don't you?'"

Akechi's Wish.

He has a wish that Maruki actually does grant him, and it's to essentially be friends with Joker. It's mutual to Joker's own wish to be friends with him.

So add up the context of all three, and it paints a very depressing picture already:

Akechi is genuinely happy for once in his life, but doesn't think he deserves it at the cost of everyone else's. It runs opposite to his own sense of Justice, and his negative views on himself as a "cursed child," and that fuels him to keep denying it.

So with him being split between the two sentiments... It's unsurprising that he would rely heavily on Joker to make the ultimate decision; Whether to accept, or to deny. Because he himself can't, and Maruki knows full well of that.

Sure, he keeps pushing Joker to deny Maruki... But why?

Is it because what Maruki's doing is wrong, and he needs to be stopped? Is it the closest thing to a punishment for all of his actions, which has been constantly denied to him up to this point? Is it the closest thing to a confirmation that he's undeserving of such happiness, especially with how much blood is on his hands?

Who knows.

So how does any of this tie into Maruki's Deal on 2/2? Isn't Rejecting a false reality the obvious choice here?

Well... It's simple.

You're not really picking between a true reality and a false one.

You're picking between:

The acknowledgement of Akechi's growth (Hereward), the righteousness he carries as The Justice arcana, and his freedom from being under someone else's control his whole life.

And this:

Think about it. Maruki gives you multiple opportunities to accept his reality, and they become increasingly personal to Joker with each one.

First is the happiness of the general public.

Second it's the happiness of the other Phantom Thieves, especially Sumire.

Then finally, it's the happiness of both Joker and Akechi.

If the first two couldn't sway Joker's decision, why would the third?

Because you want Akechi to be happy and no longer suffering. You're the one in control of making that decision as the player, remember?

And both he and Joker are also fully aware of that, given how they look back at you in the "Accept" ending.

Not to mention in spite of how he reverts back to his "Detective Prince" mannerisms, almost as if he was a different person entirely... We never actually get any indication that he goes off to fight Maruki alone, or try to fix everything himself, do we?

Sure, he says "... Well. I have your answer. There's nothing left I can say. Our deal's off."

There's no anger, betrayal, shock, or even hurt in his voice. Just quiet acceptance because after all they've gone through together, he knows Joker wouldn't lie about that.

But what can he say? Once again, you've exceeded his expectations.

And once again, he's left as speechless as his "you really are..." moments.

You chose him over a "true reality." You told him to his face that he matters, you accept him as he is in spite of everything he's done, and you want to keep spending time with him as equals. As friends.

It's a truth he has to accept, even if it conflicts with his image of himself. He's wanted by someone else, for the first time in his life.

Of course he has no need for a deal anymore. They were always the closest things he was willing to get to a friendship, without establishing a close tie that could potentially hurt him in the end.

Why would he need one when you chose your bond over all else?

You proved to his face that it's not just some temporary truce with mutual benefits. It's a genuine bond for both parties, not just to him.

Ultimately though... You're the one stuck between two choices for him:

Forsake Akechi's happiness, and finally being wanted for who he is and not whatever pleasant image or service he can provide.

Forsake his freedom, and all the growth and accountability he's accumulated thus far from his own sins.

This teenage boy is damned regardless of the decision you make. All because a man with a Jehova complex noticed that he matters to Joker (and by extension you as the player), and uses him as an ultimatum to get Joker (and you) to comply.

All because said man is well-aware that Akechi's actual fate is vague. Did he live? Did he die? Who knows, neither he or Akechi actually confirm it. They just dance around the subject and leave the assumption up to you. But he'll take full advantage of the vagueness to justify his actions to you, and show why his goals and yours are "truly in alignment."

And the worst part is that Maruki's doing this with a genuine intent to make his life happier afterwards, much like youself. It's not out of malice, or a sick sense of delight, or with the airs of playing god.

He's distorted. He's a man with good intentions that have become so distorted that he inadvertently perverses the very desire to do good for the world.

And just like Shido, and Yaldaboath, before him...

Akechi's the number one casualty.

You're just forced to decide which part of him the gun is aimed at this time.

Because this boy can't have both. It's one or the other.

[gothicrazor]

Anything for you

Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader || Rating: PG(?) || WC: 1.4k

Inspiration: Foreigner's God - Hoizer

Content Warning: afab reader, unrequited love (both reader + Kurt), Kurt pining

Authors Note: First time writing for X-Men! Please be kind to me I'm trying pookies, hopefully this turns out okay or I might actually weep! I dunno if anyone would want a part two of this, just lemme know ig??? Also let it be known I used deepL for the few things he said in German... Please don't hate me 😔

Who knew the kiss on the back of a gloved hand could really tank someone's mood as quickly as anything else at a typical Saturday night dinner. Watching the gleam drain from your eyes across the table was something he's sadly used to now. Following your eyes to the end of the table to what he knew you were staring at.

His dear sister and one of his closest friends. Rogue and Gambit. The strongest "couple" next to their leader and his wife. A force strong and immovable. Rogue, too scared to stray. And Gambit, too loyal to look anywhere but her eyes half the time.

And it kills you. Anyone who knows you can see your heart break every time they connect.

Thankfully, no one seems to be paying attention to you, no one but the blue mutant across the table from you. He finds it hard to keep his eyes anywhere but on you. Always has since you met all those years ago. He's seen you at your best, the fierceness burning behind your eyes during the heat of battle. And at your worse... Grieving the loss of something you could never have in the first place.

Your chair screeches, moving across the hardwood of the dining room harder than you intended. Standing up too fast, everyone stared in surprise.

"I'm gonna turn in early." Scott's brow rose behind ruby quartz shades as he stood up.

"Everything okay?" You smile, trying to keep up the facade, not wanting to openly weep in front of the team you call family.

"Just a little tired from training." You grab the edge of your half-eaten plate of dinner before you're met with the rough hand of Logan next to you on your wrist.

"Leave it kid, go get some shut eye." His face almost looks slightly worried, as you don't even put up an argument as usual. Just nodding, you push your chair in and hurry out of the dining room.

Kurt watches you leave, tilting his head to watch you rush up the foyer stairs as chatter picks back up at the table.

"Do you think she's sick?" His ears perk up to the concerned whisper of Jean's voice, looking at Scott as he sat back down at the head of the table.

"It's not unlike her to keep quiet when she's not feeling the best."

"She's barely been eating more than half her food in the past week Scott, I'm starting to get worried. She hasn't been like this since the Professor died." Kurt's head turns, chiming in with his usual soft tone.

"I'll check on her after dinner." Jean and Scott both looked at him. Jean smiling softly as she squeezed his shoulder.

"Thank you, Kurt. She'd probably talk to you before any of us." He nods, his dark hair bouncing lightly before turning his attention back to dinner.

Walking down the hall, he stops at your door, glancing at your nameplate before raising his fist to knock. Freezing for a moment, knowing you'd expect him to come upstairs anytime after you left. Why should he bother to knock at this point?

But Kurt is quite literally a creature of habit. So he does.

Two soft wraps hit the door before grabbing the knob, edging the flat wood open to peek inside. Your room is still dimly lite, only the moon from your window cast over the person-sized lump under the covers of your bed. A soft mutter of your name leaves his lips, yellow eyes glowing as he looks down at the bed.

"Can I come in?" A whimpered 'yes' is all he gets in return, stepping inside with the subtle click of the door closing behind him. The familiar creak of the bed fills the room as he sits on the edge, tail curling over your legs covered by blankets. Hand meeting your side under the covers, eyes falling to their usual worried state, like every time he's comforted you this way before.

Rubbing gently over your lower back, he doesn't say a word, just feeling the slight tremble of your body hidden away from his line of sight. You sniff, pulling the blanket from over your head to look at him, eyes bloodshot and miserable looking. Something he's seen too many times before but still breaks his heart seeing you like this.

"Can you lie with me, please?"

"Anything for you, mein Schatz." He gets up, walking around the bed, pulling the covers back as he climbs in next to you. Fixing them back in place, you assume your natural spot of your head on his chest and his arm around your shoulder. The gentle rub of his hand down your bicep in a soothing gesture.

"Are you okay?" His voice barely raised above a whisper, his cheek settling onto the top of your head. You take in a sharp bit shaky breath trying to calm yourself.

"It's getting harder and harder to be around them... I don't..." You choke up for a second, breathing out a soft whimper.

"I don't know... How much longer can I stand to see them together... It's so unfair of me to feel this way because he'll never love me... Not like Anna, but I just can't... Stop it. I just - I feel terrible for so many reasons." Kurt hugs you tighter, knowing that feeling all too well. Unrequited affections for someone who'll never see you as anything more than a good friend. It almost hurts him knowing you're feeling how he feels constantly.

"I know, I wish I could take the pain away from you." You shudder, sniffling against his chest. Tears welling up in your eyes as you hold onto him like a lifeline, trying to ground yourself in desperation. Squeezing your eyes shut, the tears slipped, soaking the front of his suit.

"I feel so stupid." You whine, starting to hiccup against him, tears sliding past your lashes in groves. Kurt shushes you, moving his hand to your back to cradle you closer. Sharp claws raking over the back of your uniform, gentle touch as he always has with you. His hand moves up, thumb rubbing over your cheek and turning up your chin to look at him.

"You are not stupid, meine Liebe. It's okay to feel this way. The heart wants what it wants. Unforgiving or not, you can't help that."

"Why does it have to be him of all people?" His lips turned to a frown, seeing the hurt behind your eyes. Still wiping your eyes with his thumb, he just shakes his head.

"I wish I could give you the answers. Remy is... A kind man who deeply cares for those he loves. I can see the appeal. But you'll be okay. Eventually, I'm sure of it. You're very strong after all." You just blink, breath quivering as you start to calm down a bit.

"I'm strong..." You mutter under your breath, making him smile slightly before your head goes back to him. Finding his shoulder to lean on, you take in a deep breath, shutting your eyes as you exhale and repeating the words like a prayer.

"Ja, the strongest I know."

"Thank you, Kurt, I don't know what I'd do without you." You give a weak smile as you relax against him, feeling his head leaning against yours.

"And you'll never have to find out, that's a promise." You smile a little wider, a chuckle escaping your lips.

"Can you keep holding me for a little while longer?" He smiles against the top of your head, soaking in the shared warmth between the two of you.

"Of course." You sink into his body, putting your full weight against him. His grip tightened around you. Taking in a deep breath, his eyes wandered from your relaxed expression to the window. Watching the night sky as you slowly drift off in his arms.

Feeling you go slack in his grip, Kurt looks at how relaxed you are now. Thumb moving back over your delicate features like a feather. Something he's done too many times now. But you're so beautiful to him. He can't help but want to touch you. Lips pressing the crown on your head, lingering longer than necessary.

"Ich liebe dich..." His eyes shifted back down to your face, waiting for a reaction he never got. Good or bad. It's just another confession that's gone unheard dozens of times now. No matter how much he's said it.

Smiling at your sleeping expression, he moves down the bed. Shifting onto his side to hold you against his chest. His tail wraps around your waist as he keeps you close.

Cherishing the little moments, he gets to pretend he has your heart... No matter how much it hurts his heart.

♡Thanks for reading♡

[heartstringsduet]

Happy Wednesday and first week of season 5 content! AHH. Since I updated the new Let Me, have a snippet of another fic. Thanks for tagging me @honeybee-taskforce

“You know, maybe Mateo is right,” TK says in an attempt of calming his own nerves around his negative thoughts. “Cheese balls have a bad rep, when they actually have the power to transport you in time and make you feel thirteen again.”

Marjan pulls up both of her eyebrows and purses her lips, but Nancy and Mateo nod.

“Is this going to be another filibuster?” Carlos asks with a grin, and rubs TK’s hand sitting between them to make sure he knows it's said affectionately.

“About the perfect mouthfeel, the crispy crunch and golden dust melting on my tongue?” TK teases back while holding up a fake-orange and mediocre to bad snack in front of them like a holy grail. “This, is American heritage.”

“Yeah?” Paul sets down his beer bottle. “Is that why you’re faking it the entire night?” 

TK’s stomach sinks. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“You,” Paul says, pointing at him with a pretzel stick and waving it around as he continues, “think you can fool us, but you’re all your father when it comes to the game of food. Which is to say, you don’t snack.” He leans back with a satisfied smirk, not knowing TK’s heart drops several inches. He isn’t done. “Evidence A, who of us had any of the beautiful veggies on the cutting board?”

TK snorts at the antics. “Come on—”

“I had some carrots,” Mateo chimes in.

“Some carrots,” Paul repeats. “And evidence B: who got more than a few grapes? Or did anyone else eat cucumbers? No? But the board is all wet from the many veggies all of us could have had if it weren't for TK.”

They all turn to TK, worst of all Carlos who is just as amused at Paul’s joke as anyone else.

“What? Since when is eating healthy a crime?”

“It is when you bamboozle everyone into believing you’re the same as Mateo, when I bet we would find you at Rosie’s…secretly eating a lettuce wrap burgers!”

Everyone laughs now and though it’s too close to what TK thought no one would notice or care about, he folds into the group with a smile. 

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[livesworthlivingau]

Behind the Vale Chapter 29

ISAT/Two Hats spoilers below! CW: Screaming, Biting, Choking, Suffocating, Mentions of Death and Suicide, Sleep Paralysis

{You step back inside after a moment, closing the door behind you. You lean your back against it, sighing out defeatedly. That sure didn't go very well.}

"Nille? Is everything... Alright?" {You turn to see Za standing there, Belle in tow, and Dile still sitting at the otherwise empty table.}

"I'm... not really sure, to be honest. I think they both just gotta cool off for the night. Vale's staying at the Inn for tonight. Did Frin say anything? And where's Bonnie?" {You ask, realizing they were missing.}

"They stormed off back to their room after you three ran out, I guess they were upset their big dinner was ruined..."

"A-And what happened with Siffrin? He just stormed off too after they came back in, they wouldn't say a word to us!"

"There was a little, uhh... misunderstanding. Like I said, I think they just gotta cool off. I better go check on Bonnie though, I'll help clean up after."

"Oh don't worry about that, We'll take care of it. I'll check on Sif in a minute then, let him cool off a bit first."

"Thanks y'all." {You give an appreciate sigh of relief, you've got enough on your plate tonight as it is. You quickly head upstairs to Bonnie's room, tapping your knuckle on the door.}

"Bonnie? You okay in there?" {You ask before pressing your ear to the door. You hear sniffling and soft sobs behind it. You slowly open the door, peeking inside to see them kneeling next to the open... window... Oh crab...}

"Bonbon... You okay sweetie?..." {You walk over hesitantly... They didn't hear all of that, did they? You place a hand on their shoulder, only for them to pull away. They scooch further from you, still sniffling and rubbing at their eyes, the usual tactic for when they didn't want to talk to you.}

"What did you hear?..." {They flinch at that, face still buried in their arms as they cried.}

"Why did they hurt Frin?!" {They finally lift their head up as they shouted in response.}

"It's... complicated, I know it's a lot, and I'm sorry you had to hear all that, but it's gonna be oka-"

"NO! I DON'T WANT IT TO JUST BE OKAY! I DON'T WANT FRIN TO GET HURT ANYMORE!" {They scream at the top of their lungs. You panic a bit, looking back at the closed door, then quickly shutting the window.}

"Bonnie please, keep your voice down at least!"

"WHY ARE YOU PROTECTING THEM?! WHY DO YOU AND FRIN CARE SO MUCH ABOUT TH-?!" {You panic more, quickly grabbing them to cover their mouth.}

"Bonnie! We'll talk to everyone soon but please just hold o-OUCH!" {You cry out as they bite your hand, quickly pulling away from them. Before you can do anything else they're already darting for the door, yanking it open and rushing out.}

"BONNIE!" {You cry out, quickly chasing after them.}

-------------------------------------------------------------------

[Your senses slowly return to you, as well as a feeling of calm, peace, content. A stark contrast to the day prior, but a welcome one. Your dream unfolds before you, sitting on cool grass, leaning against a large tree, staring forward at a beautiful sunset... and Nille next to you to share it, hand in hand.]

[You let out a shaky sigh. You know this isn't real, you know you don't deserve this... which only makes you grip her hand tighter, as if making sure it won't slip through your fingers. She gives a light laugh, perhaps the most beautiful sound you can remember...]

"Afraid I'm gonna run off on you, Vay?" [You hold back whatever tears you feel coming. You lay your head on her shoulder.]

"That's usually my job, isn't it~?" [You tease playfully, trying to hold it together and savor this fantasy you've concocted for yourself.]

"Might be, but I always come running after you." [The sun continues to dip lower, finally touching the horizon.]

"Hey, Vay... Mind looking up at me?" [You hesitate... your mind isn't this kind to you, there must be something horrible waiting for you if you look, right?... But what if... You slowly turn to look up at them, looking like you might be bracing yourself.]

"It's something nice, I promise." [She swears as you look into her smiling face. She looks deep into your eyes, her cheeks darkening just a tad. Your own darken in turn, especially once her hand meets your chin, gently lifting it further.]

[She leans closer. Your heart starts to pick up. You know this isn't real... but in this moment, you're not sure that you care. You slowly close your eyes, leaning in as well. We'll never experience this for real, so why not live out the fantasy in a dream? It's the best we can hope for...]

[Your lips touch. It's warm, soft, your heart burns and aches, time seems to fall away as it happens... It's not real, it can never be real, but there's nothing in this world you want more... Eventually she pulls away with a sigh. You keep your eyes closed, you hardly move, you're just trying to hold on to that feeling so desperately.]

"So... That's what the kiss of a murderer is like~." [Your chest stings as your heart breaks... Right on cue... Of course your mind had to make it hurt as much as possible. You keep your eyes closed, you don't want it to get any worse.]

"That's what you are, isn't it?" [You feel a hand grab the back of your head, gripping your hair tightly and tugging. The hand doesn't feel like Nille's it feels... wooden. Your eyes shoot open again as you're yanked back. That same thing that tormented you last time was before you again, wearing that horrifying mockery of Nille's face. It leans uncomfortably close to you.]

"That's all you're ever going to be to us." [The sky, the sun, the tree, the grass, it had all vanished. Around you now was the same lightless void from before. Suspended in a circle above you were.. masks on strings. The faces of what was almost your family.]

"MURDERER! MURDERER! MURDERER!" [They all cry out.]

"No no no no! Not you again! I thought I took care of you last time!" [You shout, trying to kick it away and struggle in their grasp. The being barely reacting to your movements as the mask of Nille slides up off its head, suspended on its own strings as it joins the circle above. Left behind, staring into your soul, was that sick, twisted mask of your own face. The one it pulled out of your chest before.]

"We're going to need me for a long, long time." [Cracks appear in the corner of the mask's eyes, running down the face like tears.]

"Especially since we know how she'll feel about us now..."

"Shut up! I don't need you!! Get out of my blinding head!!!"

"She's going to hate us. They all will."

"MURDERER!" [The masks above cry out once more, Nille's joining in this time. The facade's grip on your head tightens as it pulls your gaze towards the masks above.]

"None of them will want anything to do with us."

"I don't need you to tell me that! So what do I need you for?!" [The mockery of your face leans in uncomfortably close as it speaks softly into your ear.]

"You'll break without me to hide behind. You're not strong enough to face them alone." [You clench your jaw, feeling their presence hovering just beside you. The hair on the back of your neck standing up.]

"What good are you if I can't sit through as single blinding meal with them all?!"

"You didn't embrace me, then. You tried to feel, to make it work. Too weak to become numb."

"And what good is a life if we're just left as a husk?!"

"We always were one." [It pulls away, holding you in front of it as a blank, star shaped mask descends from the void into view. It dangles between the two of you, covering them from view. You freeze upon seeing it... you're filled with absolute rage as you're shown this damned face again. You practically let out a growl, clenching your fist and suddenly slamming your hand into it, SMASH!!!]

[The mask of what once was shatters, the pieces scattered to the void, some left upon the ground like the star you ripped from your chest and left for Stardust to find... You stare at them for a moment before it's other hand suddenly wraps around your throat. It clamps down as you kick and struggle, gasping fruitlessly for air. Your face begins to darken, your vision goes blurry, and just before you pass out it loosens its grip to let you fill your aching lungs, then pulls away after another moment.]

"There's three paths ahead of us. First, you wear me to withstand what's coming, salvage some kind of life with them, with Her. Second, you fail, fall, perhaps die trying to take the consequences unprotected, and we end up alone in the dark." [You finally catch your breath, just dangling defeatedly in its grip.]

"... and the third?" [The end of your whip suddenly falls heavily into view, along with the sound of something snapping. Your whip has been tied into the shape of a noose, with the mask of your Stardust hanging from it. The mask of your face cracks some more, the fissures forming into a desperate grin.]

"We make them forget~." [You freeze... You stare at the noose before you... Your eyes dart to it, then the creature. You quickly grab the noose, managing to get it around that blinging thing's neck! In response, Strings, many-strong and pulling tight, wrap around your own throat in equal measure. Despite this it continues to 'speak'.]

"We've done it before, we can do it again. He cares so blinding much about us that he might even agree to it~." [You choke out for air, feeling those strings tighten on your throat as you tighten on its. You don't care, you keep pulling tighter as you only feel your throat tighten in turn.]

"I am a part of you, as much so as any other. Finish the job if you want, when he finds out we never woke up he'll loop back anyways~." [It leans closer to you, filling your slowly fading vision as your lungs burned even more, the strings tightening even further.]

"That's probably what you want, isn't it? With all that sleep medicine you put in us." [It's lying, it must be... It's just a dream, and we've defeated it once before... You use all of your draining strength to keep going tighter and tighter... and... tighter... The dream fades. Sensation, sight, feeling... all... going... away...]

[Your eyes snap open. You're in bed. Just a dream after all... Yet you can't move... You can't breathe! Your eyes dart around as you try desperately to move your limp form. All you can manage is to let out a frightened almost whimper in your panic.]

[As your eyes dart back and forth, you finally lock onto it... No... no no no no no no! It's standing there, in the corner. The Facade is watching you with your own face, eyes that should be yours alone, the cracks still forming that sick grin. It puts a finger to its fissure of a mouth, hushing you as it stares. You feel pins and needles all over your body. You still can't breathe, you still can't move!]

[As you stare in horror, waiting for it to act, it suddenly vanishes with one more blink. You finally let out a pained gasp for air, shooting to sit up in bed. You grip your throat as it burns, still taking deep gasps for air as you frantically look around to ensure it was truly gone... You're awake now, and it's gone, yet... You saw it while you were awake... You're not sure if you'll ever truly be without it, now...]

Yet another chapter done with the help of @tactical-shrubbery and stars blind it y'all, these last few chapters (and likely the next few) are RUINING ME!!! I should have the next chapter out by the end of the day (EST) as well, so keep an eye out~.

[sunnyvelvet]

Time Together (Teen Titan!Dick Grayson!Robin x Reader)

A/N: Hello! He is an imagine from a time before that I am really proud of. Enjoy!

WC: 1,529

Original Link

It wasn't always easy, with him at the tower almost 24/7 and me working a full-time job. We still made it work. A lot of nights would end with him coming through my window and complaining that I shouldn't keep it open. I only kept it open for him, and he knew that. His time at my apartment was always content, gave him a reason to be out of that Goddamn suit. We would watch a movie or infomercials. Cuddled up together without a care, soft kisses and hand-holding being fairly common in these times. It was always something we looked forward too.

(Y/N)'s POV I had only been to the tower a handful of times. Mostly when everyone else on the team was out. He liked to keep me his secret, even though he had plenty of secrets from them. I understood though, not being in the "business" and all. He wants to keep me safe. It honestly surprised me when he texted me to come to the tower.

It was late as I crept to were Dick had said to meet him. It was probably 2 AM, thankfully I don't have work tomorrow. I was standing on a beach that was connected to the water that surrounded the tower. Getting fed up with waiting, I decided to start walking back to my car. I had parked it about four blocks away. As I started to walk back to it I heard my name. "(Y/n)! Wait!" It was Dick. "And I thought you weren't going to show up." I said with a smile on my face. I honestly was really happy to see him, even in full gear.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting. I got caught up in something." He smiled at me then engulfed me into a hug. I had to pull myself away from him. "So, what did you want to meet about out here?" I asked, very confused about why we were meeting here. "Well, I kinda have a surprise for you in the tower." He proceeded to scratch the back of his neck, "As long as we're quite we shouldn't wake anyone." I looked at him unsurely. Yes, I had been in the tower before but not when the team was there.

"I'm not sure Dick, should we really take that chance?" I stepped away from him as I said that. I really wasn't prepared to meet his team if someone does wake up. Especially at 2 AM! "It'll be fine (Y/N), we just got to sneak around till we get to your surprise." I agreed as we started to walk to the small motorboat he had taken from the tower to the small beach. Thankfully the engine wasn't too loud and we got to the tower without notifying anyone, I hope.

Once we were in the tower we took an elevator to a floor, I hadn't seen the number Dick pushed because he had me held in his arms so tight I could barely move. Once we got out of the elevator we walked slowly towards the end of the hall. He was, basically, dragging me down it. We got to a bathroom. "Umm, Babe..." I said trying to refrain from using his real name, "Why are we at a bathroom?" I laughed for a good minute before he just opened the door and walked in.

In the bathroom were candles lit and a bubble bath run for both of use. Flower petals were scattered on the floor and in the water. "Oh, wow!" That's all I could say as I stared at it in awe. "Do you like it? I thought it would be nice." He had a little bit of doubt in his voice. Like I wouldn't like it. "I love it." I moved over to him and gave him a kiss. Just a peck but enough to make his doubt go away. I started to stripe my clothes. Shoes, socks, shirt, and pants. I noticed Dick hadn't taken anything off yet.

"Are you going to join me or not?" I asked then proceeded to take my bra and panties off. I glanced at him as I walked towards the tub. He quickly took off his suit, wasting no time. He stepped into the tub and sat in front of me. "I thought we could relax together and your apartment doesn't have a tub," He started to talk about something else but all I could focus on was his face. He still had his mask on but I could tell he was excited to just be with me tonight.

I moved over so that I was sitting in between his legs. His arms going straight to my waist to hold me. We sat there for nothing but a few minutes, even though it felt like hours. Nothing was better than being in Dick's arms. He moved and grabbed a cup that was sitting next to the tub. "What are you doing?" I smiled while I looked at him, so confused. "I'm going to wash your hair. You know, like before." Oh, how you did know. When you still lived in Gotham with your Father/Mother, they would always leave for days on end for business. Dick would come over and stay with you.

We would always end up taking a bath. Mostly because we were both stressed and just need to be near each other. With him out fighting crime and me trying to get both of use though high school. I did most of his homework, I swear. I was always nice just be together, even just for a little bit. We would wash each other hair and talk about nothing. It was some of my favorite memories with him.

Dick started to pour some water onto my head, covering my eyes with his other hand. He did it multiple times before my whole head was wet. Continuing, he opened an unlabeled bottle and poured its contents onto his hand. As Dick scrubbed my scalp I leaned back into him. Relaxing a bit, noting that it smelled like strawberries. "Does it feel good?" All I could do was hum at him. To content to talk. Dick continued to wash my hair until he felt it was clean enough. Fishing the cup out of the water, he covers my eyes. "I don't want to get soap in them." He started to rinse my hair until all the suds were out of it. He pushed some of my hair away and kissed my cheek. I turned my head so I could kiss him. It turned a little heated but ended so I could tell him to turn around.

Now sitting facing him I took the cup from him. Quickly filling it up and pouring over his head. I smiled at him as I continued. "So, how are things around here?" It wasn't a question I asked often but I still liked to know sometimes. I poured some of the same strawberry shampoo he used on me into my hands. "It's the same I guess. Not a lot goes on." I knew that was bull but I didn't push the issue. I didn't really want to know what he would say if I do. I scrubbed his head as we sat in silence. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, it just silence we had gotten used to when being alone together.

Rising his hair, I realized that I had wrapped my legs around his waist. My ankles were even linked. When his hair was finally free of soap suds he leaned towards me and wrapped his arms around me. I did the same. We ended up staying in that position and just talked about little things.

It ended up being two hours later before we knew it. Time can really go by when you're with someone you love. We washed each other's bodies by then. I had my back to his chest laying in his embrace when we started to look at the time. "It's 4 AM, we should probably get out." He looked at me sadly, not wanting to leave yet. "I don't wanna." I stated, looking at him with puppy dog eyes. "I mean you could always stay for breakfast with me... And the team." The team...

"Fine." That's all I said before I stood up in the tub, grabbing a towel. I dried off and started to re-dress when Dick got out of the tub. I waited for him to get ready before leaving the bathroom, not wanting to get caught. "Let's get you back to your car."

We were both quite to the motorboat. We were honestly quite the whole way to my car. Dick had insisted to walk me to it. Now we were at it and I didn't know what to say. Great night, see you next week?! That wasn't really what I was looking for. "I love you (Y/N)." Dick said it so fast and so abruptly I almost did release he said anything. "I love you too Dick." I leaned in to kiss him and then I got into my car. Waving as I drove off.

[the-old-mayhem]

do you want to publish some sort of a book? your content is very useful, it helps people to know the truth about many things regarding Mayhem. but such amount of information is difficult to remember and it is scattered on the internet + your blog is still quite underground. almost everyone in Mayhem community believes all sorts of rumors. the book collects all the information together and it looks solid. i thought your subscribers will help if you needed it 🫶

This blog may be underground, but instagram page has 20,300 followers and I wouldn't call that underground in a relatively small community like Mayhem community is. I noticed a lot of tone shifting on social media lately when people talk about Øystein, for example. And I can tell (most of the time) who picked up some information from our page directly.

I agree that the book would actually reach far more people and would leave a lasting impression, and I DO WANT to publish the book, but there are two big problems here.

One, I need the other admin. She is the smartass, and the writer, not me. She has to want it, and she has to start it. I would just contribute and help. The other problem is that, while we have some original posts, 98-99% of information we publish comes from someone else. We just kinda collect it, but it's not ours.

How can we use direct quotes from all these publications? We would have to ask for permission. Some would allow us, but I know who wouldn't. So we would have to find some other way, retelling and phrasing the whole thing differently, making sure we can't be sued for copyright infringement.

On the surface level, publishing the book seems easy - the information is there, we have it, we just have to compile it and put it into chapters, write a bit and voila.

In reality, it's actually difficult.

[arrowsperpetualcringe]

mmmm wow, i sure wish my friends would ✨talk to me✨

[mewtwo24]

I finally finished reading the fourth volume of svsss in full, and thing is--the first time through I only read the bingqiu content because I was ravenous for more of their happy ending.

Turns out that was a perilous mistake.

Because I started reading the airplane extras. And I swear to god. MXTX is trying to kill me

What do you MEAN demon lord Binghe was sitting on his big fucking throne. All stoic and forbidding. Surrounded by his demon generals who don't know shit about human courtship. Asking them what he should do, fully demoralized by constant rejections from sqq, only to have airplane tell him to act more pathetic and needy. Which is already hysterically funny and insane, UNTIL LBH'S RESPONSE IS THIS, KILLING ME INSTANTLY:

LUO BINGHE. WHY DOES HE SAY IT LIKE: "I already tried that, didn't work--nothing works :/ not mean, not maidenly, not housewife, not spicy, not capable disciple. Is doubling down on clingy really all it will take? What's a born hater with only one love in his life to do????"

The dichotomy of him sitting there like 'how can I reach the unfathomable depths of shizun's heart?' A HEART HE'S ALREADY WON OVER, MIND and then in the Holy Mausoleum solving the puzzle without blinking and being like 'oh yeah you just have to hit the acupoints, no sweat.' Literally the comedy writes itself I'm so--

How am I supposed to be normal about this. MXTX understands the juicy quintessential queer joy of a person with the world's power at their fingertips wishing only for love. Willing to do anything to earn that love, when unbeknownst to them it's already been freely given. Totally not screaming and yelling and clawing at the walls

And that's not even touching airplane's uproarious account of events. The way he's like 'lol what's next, lbh and sqq are best friends now? smfh' only to see lbh TACKLE SQQ LOVINGLY. FOR SQQ TO BE BASHFUL ABOUT IT BUT SO SO FOND OF THE LITTLE SCAMP. This when we've been experiencing sqq's constant inner monologue of 'I'm so cool and so dignified about my role, truly the epitome of propriety and poser-level fortitude.' Meanwhile, in their universe:

Airplane constantly flaming???? Sqq and lbh in his observations????? His absolute bewilderment and confusion????? Legendary. No notes every single second of this shit was hilarious.

Airplane's comment that sqq + older adolescent lbh traveling together was just watching a couple in their honeymoon phase. OR the fact that lbh is exceedingly petty and refuses to share their food in the wake of airplane's interruption of their time together, until sqq relents sheepishly and insists airplane eat what's left (ONLY AFTER PLACATING LBH WITH MORE FOOD FROM HIS PLATE, SOBBING)

Watching airplane salivate over Mobei-Jun and acting like that's totally normal behavior. Finding out mbj and airplane got together first. Finding out sqq encouraged airplane. LIKE THIS. WHILE HE IS STILL IN DENIAL ABOUT HIS OWN FEELINGS:

Mobei-jun clearly thinking their arrangement is a forever thing, heartbroken his human abandoned him with all the hapless fury of a scorned wife swept away by false promises of fidelity. Airplane writing demons to be the type to beat up their crush lovingly and still unable to connect the dots about mbj's feelings. Mbj letting him go and respecting his wishes, only relenting when there's indication airplane was poorly processing his own feelings and didn't actually want to leave. Mbj caring for him and listening to him as soon as airplane voices what he needs directly and with clarity. None of these gays are functional and it's everything to me

Unrelated, but I physically can't hold this information in anymore:

I'm still reeling from younger lbh having his sexual awakening from the image of sqq wrapped in the immortal binding cables. Condemn me as you like he was so, so real for that.

And no I will not be taking any comments about how luo bingge couldn't bear to see luo binghe cherished in ways he never got to have and all the haunting implications of that. I will also not be taking any comments about luo binghe's instinct to look for sqq in that alternate universe, only to be shaken to the very core to be unable to find his shizun anywhere. The unspeakable and latent horror of his relentless mind likely piecing together what happened, but unable to say it; to suspect what is true, and live with the harrowing confusion of his double's actions. To blame himself, to assume that he had let his anger get the better of him in that world and result in unspeakable folly...

I also refuse to talk about how heartrending it is to hear Tianlang-jun weakly say "In the end, I really can't bring myself to hate humans." The implication that the foolishness of that hope and bright-eyed fondness--the very thing that put him through such unspeakable agony--couldn't be beaten out of him entirely. To discover that his faith in Su Xiyan hadn't been misplaced, to the contrary: his beloved hadn't scorned him at all, but rather fought to the miserable end to protect the fruition of their genuine feelings of love when she couldn't protect tlj or herself.

How MXTX has sqq deliberately draw parallels between their situation and that of ygy+sj and tlj+sx; desperately wishing it might not be too late for them. The concept of breaking cycles of abuse and harm pervasive throughout the newly devised story, how it evolves for the better only when love takes the place of power, pride, and domination. How the moment sqq chooses vulnerability instead of saving face, the genre shifts to the so-called "cringe" girly genre where most if not every character is more fulfilled, more true to themselves. How the "male-oriented" former genre was aimlessly sensationalized and sexualized, how it was a sustained performance of aspirational toxic masculinity. How men objectify other men without end. All of the unspoken gendered implications that come with that.

Anyways. Going to go put my head in a sandbox and try to process everything I just witnessed because even a second reading is not enough to find a modicum of closure.

[deservedgrace]

I don't think that framing "Marginalized™️ Atheism/Deconstruction" and "Cishet White Male Atheism/Deconstruction" as inherently ~separate and distinct~ is super effective (and disclaimer I'm specifically speaking about my experience with christianity, atheism, and ex christian atheists/deconstructors), but also... okay so I was raised in a cult, and cults are oppressive for all its members. Nobody gets out unscathed, everyone experiences the abuse tactics, everybody is a victim. But within the cult there is a hierarchy, and cishet white men are at the top. So while the cult is oppressive to everyone, and everyone is harmed in some way, it is also uniquely oppressive to queer folks, to BIPOC, to disabled folks, to women, etc etc. And the thing that happens to some of those cishet white men is they leave an oppressive cult, where they are considered the "default", and they go into the ~real world~, where they are also considered the "default", and even in atheist/deconstruction spaces, their bodies and experiences are often the leading voices.

The men that leave go from an oppressive patriarchal culture to a far less oppressive (to them) patriarchal society. The white people that leave go from an oppressive racist culture to a far less oppressive (to them) racist society. The people that leave go from an oppressive culture that does not value marginalized voices to a different, less oppressive culture that also does not value marginalized voices. And if you personally do not experience [xyz] oppression, it can be difficult to even realize there are things surrounding that you have to deconstruct unless you listen to the voices of the oppressed. But some cishet white men go from being considered the "default" in an oppressive culture, to being considered the "default" in a less oppressive culture (to them). Their experience of "overcoming systemic oppression" comes from leaving the church, and it can be really easy to fall into the trap that the church, specifically, is the sole oppressor and enemy of everyone.

Of course this doesn't happen in every single case and it's also not exclusive to cishet white men. But those blind spots are why I think it's important for everyone to listen to a variety of voices when they're deconstructing, especially if those voices are talking about oppression you wouldn't have experienced firsthand.

No, our deconstructions are not inherently different, but the experiences and circumstances prior to it often are. It's okay to acknowledge that and beneficial for everybody to listen to each other's experiences.

[gurenkurosen]

ohh i think im coming to a bit of a realization actually as to why mmos are so scary when im forced to party

[starlit-roses-ships]

y'all ever just. have those times where you don't really have any energy to deal with f/o angst either from either canon or from your own scenarios you've come up with?

sometimes you just want to think about soft comfort you know? 😞

[volfoss]

as a guy that loves getting into obscure media that like. maybe 5 people talk about now. it is interesting the difference between consuming media that is SUPER popular and everyone loves your fave (a curse i would never wish upon anyone. the posts will never be good) and a media that like. there is NO ONE actively posting about. it has barely any fan presence online. and honestly its kind of peaceful

[nectarine-neuroticism]

on occasion, discussing pride-related things on tumblr can be impossible. some ppl (myself included) will not change their minds about things, and sometimes you just have to live with that. it is what it is.

[rainc0at]

I LOVE THIS FUCKIJG FILM SO MUCH EVERYTHING ABOUT IT IS PERFECT

[crownedwille]

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